


So come a little closer baby (I feel like lettin' go)

by half_a_league



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Crack, F/F, F/M, Minor Genital Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-03-08 14:42:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3212930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/half_a_league/pseuds/half_a_league
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Who did you invite in my house, with me <i>in this state</i>!” he shouted through the door. “Vris? Vris!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	So come a little closer baby (I feel like lettin' go)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from _Come A Little Closer_ by Dierks Bentley.  
>  Skip to end notes if you need more warning for genital trauma.

The door slammed open. Eridan squirmed, shoulder blades flat against the wood plank, and strained to hear. Vriska’s irritated shout was familiar, and welcome, despite the fact that he fumbled a towel desperately out of his Sylladex when he heard it.

“I mean, _who_ even does that? Nobody! Nobody does that!”

There she was, his sweet, sweet salvation, but the response she got to her comment was completely unexpected and utterly terrifying, considering _he_ wasn’t the one who said it.

“Well, you _certainly_ didn’t say he was the _smartest_. A bargain bin kismesis? Vriska, you should know better!”

Saccharin sweet and drawling, the second voice tripled the already panicked thumps of his heart and made Eridan squirm anxiously as the footsteps drew closer.

“Eridan? Eridan, _wherever_ are you?” Vriska shouted, and thudded on the closed study door with an open fist. 

“This better not be locked, Mister!”

He prayed it was. Vriska—his only hope, his great salvation, his biggest enemy—had betrayed him in his greatest time of need, breaking the sanctity of their dark-as-void bond. 

The bookshelf creaked dangerously as he tried to turn to his side, and yelped from the painful tug. 

“Who did you invite in my house, with me _in this state_!” he shouted through the door. “Vris? Vris!”

He heard his door creak open, then slam shut, and Vriska’s excited voice, followed by a second cackling that made his blood run colder than usual. When sharp shoes clacked into the room, he’d thrown an arm over his eyes and was staunchly pretending none of it was happening.

“Why, Eridan,” a raspy voice crooned. “I wouldn’t think you were strong enough to drag a bookshelf that far, but the evidence suggests otherwise.”

He jerked, knocked away the broom he’d been fumbling with early to try and hook over his husktop, and grabbed the towel preserving his sorely tarnished modesty by the tips of his claws. Blushing furiously, he jerked his shoulders up and flattened his fins. “Terezi?!”

“In the flesh, to help get _out_ the flesh,” she said, and whipped off her sunglasses to wink obnoxiously at him.

He whined, pained, fins fluttering. “Vris, _a word with you?!_ ” 

“Go get a chair, Terezi,” she said, kicking her rocket boots on. “The kitchen’s got some tall enough to get you near the ceiling, since you’re soooo short.”

A scalemate flew through the air, smacked her in the face, and knocked her into the bookshelf as the door to the study slammed shut. Eridan yelped, and wobbled, clutching the edge. Vriska bounced back, grabbed him by the arm, and shoved him more firmly onto the top of it. “If you fall, I bet you’ll tear your bulge all the way off and it’ll be super gross,” she said, grinning.

“You’re too fuckin’ gleeful for that possibility,” he snapped, and jerked the towel more firmly over himself. “What the hell, Vriska!”

“Are you honestly surprised that I’d think it was funny if you lost your dick in a tragic ceiling accident?” She laughed, and smacked his hand away when he tried to stop her from peeling back the towel and appraising the situation.

“No!” he whined, “Well, yes, but no! Terezi!”

“What, you want me to lift her up so she doesn’t tarnish your precious, salt warped, “antique” chairs?”

“No! I don’t w-want her here at all!”

“Eridan!” Vriska said, faux-shocked, and smacked his thigh, steadying him with a grin as he jerked and wobbled again. “That’s so rude, and just when she agreed to help you, too! I’m shocked at your poor hospitality.”

“An’ I’m shocked that you brought a weird tree girl into _my_ hive when _my_ bulge is stuck in a _ceilin’ fan_!” He cleared his throat, and said, lower pitched and calmer. “Get rid of her. I would rather use a healthy fuckin’ dose a’ gravity than let her anywhere near my currently impaired fuckin’ state.”

“Jeez, Eridan,” she said, and waved a hand at him. “You say it like she’s never seen your gross fleshy bits before.”

“As far as I know, she hasn’t!” he squeaked, and went several shades darker. “Vriska, those were supposed to be private!”

“Aw, shut up, quadrant corners totally count as private.” He winced, and she patted him, biting her lip and squinting. “If it helps, I can show you some pictures of hers? That would totally make you feel better, wouldn’t it, you big baby.”

“Vriska!” Terezi snapped from the doorway, making them both jump. “Dearest heart of my blood pusher, dripping red jam of my life, scourge of my dreams, we are trying to get him out, you dumbass. We are definitely _not_ trying to get him stuck even further.” She finished hauling the chair over the door sill, and dragged it across floor, sending up curls of paint behind her. “And don’t pretend that will have the desired result! It has been unanimously declared by the full jury that ten out of ten trolls are aroused by a slamming booty and a nicely shaped bulge.”

Eridan groaned. “Just, both of you go away. I’m going to _die_ here. I’ve accepted my fuckin’ fate.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Vriska commanded, and helped Terezi drag the chair right against the bookshelf. “You’re the one who called your kismesis and not your moirail. You were all, ‘Ooohhh Vriska, come save me!!! I couldn’t possibly ever let my precious innocent moirail see me like this!’ and I did, so now you _have_ to do what I tell you.”

“Like not die. And hold _very_ still,” Terezi said, and cackled. “Spread your legs more. Clench. Bend over and cough.”

He sat up sharply, clutching the towel, and bashed his head into the ceiling. “Shit! Fuck! I don’t fuckin’ know what kind a’ troll you think I am, you bitch-”

“Why Eridan, haven’t you gone and seen the mediterrorist yet? You have to follow all _their_ directions, or they’ll mess up your annual shameglobes exam!”

“This has nothin’ to do with my shameglobes!” He snarled, and took a swipe at her, towel shifting dangerously.

Vriska squinted, grabbed the base of his bulge and yanked, wincing as he screamed and collapsed back against the bookshelf. “So, what do you think, Terezi?”

“The jury is out, but the legislacerators are conspiring and seem to be willing to consult the key witness.”

“Soooo?”

“Let us give him a yank and see how stuck it really is.”

Eridan paled so fast that Vriska almost paused in firmly grasping his chest. 

~~~~~

“Ta-fucking-da. Problem solved.” Vriska tossed her hair, pleased, and left, shouting, “Where’s your fucking fish? The fancy stuff!” as she stomped down the hall.

“The jury to rest!” Terezi cackled. “I hereby declare this case closed!” 

She considered the towel, laying on on the floor, then casually wiped the blood off her hand, discard Eridan’s neatly folded cape when she was done. When she looked up, he was still lying there on his side, curled into himself. Curious, she prodded him with a foot.

He lashed out at her, snarling, and tore the leg of her pants open. She stomped back, and snapped, “The judge finds the defendant deeply ungrateful!”

“You almost tore my nipple off!” he howled, and flung his other hand away from his chest, scattered deep purple drops onto the floor and the wall.

“You’re lucky I helped at all!” Terezi said, but kicked the towel closer to him. “Anyways, it’s mostly still attached, _and_ your bulge is now one-hundred-percent fan free. I’d say I did you a big favor!”

“What _ever_ ,” Eridan groused, and daubed at his chest with the cleanest part of the towel. “Thanks, I guess.”

“And anyways,” Terezi said, laughing again. “Think of the review you get to leave, oh esteemed Commodore Fishdick!” 

He growled, and lunged at her again, and she jumped back back, adding brightly,”Oh! Sorry, Fish _stick_.”

concupiscentAquarium two hours ago  
instructions too unclear caught bulge in ceilin fan  
reply

**Author's Note:**

> Title by [Seajuju](http://seajuju.tumblr.com/)  
> General help by [Kan](http://beforuskanaya.tumblr.com/)  
> Genital Trauma tag refers to a non-specific, sparsely described bulge-caught-in-ceiling-fan scenario, which the character comes out of (relatively) unharmed.  
> All the OCness belongs to me, and you can yell at me about it [here](http://half-a-league.tumblr.com/)


End file.
